24 - The Dragon and The Arrow ❣️

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The sun hadn't risen but signaled its impending arrival with pale yellow rays radiating from behind the mountains to the east. The dull light of dawn peeked through the gap between the curtains, feasting upon the sight of a young beauty deep in slumber on the four-poster.

The silvery medallion resting on her bosom shimmered with the colors of the rainbow as it rose and fell to the rhythm of her breathing. A pale, spider-like hand reached towards it. Long, tapered fingers unhooked the necklace's metal clasp and slid it off her neck.

The thief held his breath, although he'd hovered a rag sprinkled with his laudanum under her nose to make sure she wouldn't wake. Hmm, she didn't seem to suspect foul play. He gathered his courage and reached in again, this time for her eyes.

He flicked back one of her heated eyelids. The sight that awaited him beneath the burning skin sent him scrambling in fright.

A glowing eye, acid green. Beautiful yet unnatural. Peculiar yet familiar.

Coris struggled in vain to calm his ragged breathing. His hand clutching the medallion was slick with cold sweat. Arinel—or whoever she was—stirred then, scrunching her eyes and twitching her shoulders. Coris laid down, feigning slumber.

Meya woke up with a pungent smell in her nostrils, an itch in one of her eyes, and a heavy soreness across her body.

Scratching away eye boogers, she propped herself on her elbows and glanced at her bedmate. Seeing Coris still sleeping in peace, not coughing his insides out, she sighed in relief, then froze with her lungs half-empty.

Coris was sleeping soundly. A little too soundly. In fact, his chest wasn't even moving.

"Coris? Coris!" Meya nudged his shoulder, then shook him when he remained listless. His head lolled to the side, and his eyelids retracted, revealing empty white crescents.

Oh no. Please no. Don't tell me he overexerted making love to me last night?

"Oh, Freda. No! Coris! Coris!"

Meya shrieked, yanking Coris off the bed by his shoulders, shaking him like a wheat bushel. Coris's eyes flew open. He raised his arms to ward her off, yelling,

"Enough, enough, enough! Enough, Ari! I was faking. I'm not dead!"

Meya's brain caught up with her ears, and she froze, blinking dumbly at her beau. Coris tried his utmost not to laugh, his pale cheeks pink from the effort.

"Goodly Freda, Ari. I won't die that easily." He chuckled as Meya blushed, then leaned in and whispered into her crimson earlobe, his chilly fingers dancing atop her breasts, "Of course I've got enough energy set aside for doing y—Nuh-uh-uh!"

Coris caught Meya's drawn fist in his grasp. He wagged his finger as he folded his lips and clucked. Meya growled in her throat as she jerked her hand from his grip.

To her surprise, Coris didn't resist and instead lurched forth to her pull. Meya ended up flat on her back with the skinny young man pinning her. Before she could protest, his lips trapped hers.

Oh, not again.

Meya closed her eyes wearily. With Coris being so twig-thin, she could perhaps slither off if she wanted, but for some reason, she never could resist his advances.

The girl's tense limbs yielded beneath his as she committed to the sweet morning kiss. Coris exploited her distraction to loop the cord with the medallion back around her neck, masking his move as a sensual caress.

Her feverish lips cooled to human temperature, warmed by desire, stoking his rekindled fire. However, having accomplished his ulterior motive, Coris freed her arms and drew away, shame gnawing at his heart.

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